Oneshot Twoshot Redshot Blueshot
by MoonlightUmbreon
Summary: A collection of oneshots and twoshots, though I'm not all-that sure about how to go writing redshots and blueshots! 7th: Super Special Awkward Plot Twist - What happens when the quantum keyboard malfunctions and sucks the Ghostwriter into a soap opera?
1. Empty

**Blanket Disclaimer  
**I do not, in any way, shape, form or in any other parallel dimension/alternate universe, own Danny Phantom. We all know who owns Danny, and I'll be damned if it's me.

**Author's Note  
**Starting a oneshot collection in case I have random ideas. Considering my sort of bunnies usually pop up with something resembling a torture device clutched in their fingers, I'm going to write a few of these down.

This one's goes AU right from the start. You'll see. Just please, don't hit me. (By the way, Catalyst, this counts as the angsty fluff tag... somehow.)

* * *

**Empty  
-MoonlightUmbreon-**

**

* * *

**When you got right down to it, he didn't even know what had happened to him. It was all so fast; blindingly fast, really. Every little cell and atom contained in his fragile teenage body was, for a second, screaming like there was going to be no tomorrow. Because there _wouldn't_ be a tomorrow – or at least, not for them, anyway.

For that second while the atoms were still clustered into a recognisable shape, each and every one of them was in agony. Such an agony that all they could focus on was the pain coursing through them, all hint of staying in a recognisable form forgotten. They split apart mercilessly at the occupant's expense, tearing cells and fracturing organs into halves, quarters, sixteenths, two-hundred and fifty-sixths...

And yet, it was all over before the occupant of the body had even realised something had just taken place; all that was left of the boy was a pale ghost with white hair and startlingly green eyes.

After some fifteen completely dumbfounded seconds, he began to realise what had happened, and laughed. He thought he was insane, but then again, he was sort of saving his sanity by doing so at the same time.

It was, however, a different story when his mother leaped down the stairs four at a time, feet pounding on the ground as she rushed to the portal. He stared at her for a moment, crinkling his eyebrows together. She came to halt in front of him, staring through the depths of the green swirls and into a shadow that looked vaguely like her son.

The teen looked back and blinked in a puzzled manner, moving forward and closer to the figure. He exited the portal and then boggled at his mother, tilting his head to the left, and then to the right, as if he didn't quite know what to make of her. And then, gingerly, he reached out a glowing hand and placed it on her head, tilting it so he could see the underside of the neck.

The woman jerked away immediately, subconsciously reaching for her head where her sons hand had been. With absolute horror, she stared at her floating boy. The pit of her stomach felt as though it had been thrown upwards and become entangled with her oesophagus.

The teenager continued to stare, spectral eyes still so unsure. There was a fascination that glittered in them and the mother wasn't so sure that she liked that look, given the circumstances.

"Your name is Madeline," he stated, leaning in closer, studying. "But you would rather be called 'Maddie'."

Maddie trembled. She really didn't know what to say – her brain knew exactly what she was looking at, but she could disregard it all just to notice the way that her Danny, her own _son_, was talking. He'd made such a blank statement; one that was just too bland to be from his memory... it was like he didn't even remember what role she had in his life...

"Danny, please, come here. I'm so sorry. _So _sorry... I can't believe I let this happen to you..."

A silence passed – one of those silences that was so silent it could hit you like a perfectly tangible block of cement. Maddie's entangled oesophagus twisted up even further, nearly choking her.

Eventually, with unmistakeable curiosity, Danny asked, "Maddie, do you know who I was?"

No. This couldn't be him, the mother thought. It wasn't at all possible. It just - it wasn't Danny! How could he be so soulless, so unemotional, so... so _empty_? It was like he was cleaned out of everything that made him _Danny_, and then what was left was thrown into an incomplete ectoplasmic being...

But her studies, she remembered, said quite the contrary.... There were things on what happened to ghosts after they'd died, and one of those was memory loss in the extreme. They could remember parts of their life, but the rest disappeared with their human selves. Often, they would retain it for just a few minutes, but the memories would fade away like shadows...

"You were – _are_ my son, Danny," Maddie was violently shaking, her mind a nervous wreck. And, all at once, everything pressed down on her head – she wailed, the first signs of tears welling up in her eyes, thinking of nothing but her little boy. "Oh, my God... no. You can't be a ghost. You can't just not remember me! You're my son, Danny! My son! Please! You know me! I cared for you all your life; I tucked you into bed at night, I kissed your wounds better! _Please_! I'm your mother and I love you, and I care about you, and I really doubt that I could live without you!"

Danny was rather taken aback at the sudden emotional bomb, which was currently curled up in front of him. His eyebrows once again creased together, trying to figure out what he could do. Really, he didn't know, and somehow, what had been said twanged at his metaphorical heartstrings. It was something he found hard to understand, but what he did know was that he wanted Maddie to feel better – so he did what he could to try.

Two white-booted feet landed gently on the floor, making not even the faintest sound. He got down on his hands and knees, very softly stroking Maddie on the back. Before he even knew it, she was embracing him with a grip that could have caused suffocation, had he needed to breathe. Danny couldn't remember what a hug was, but decided quickly that the warmth it gave him was somehow very comforting, so he returned it with enough sense to do it softly.

Really, he was quite confused about all the fuss this poor woman was making over him. He was well aware that he was a ghost, but couldn't really see why that might be a bad thing.

Come to think of it, Danny couldn't even remember what a mother was. He thought it had something to do with rearing someone as a child, but couldn't really be sure. He tilted his head again, an arm reaching around to its familiar spot at the back of his neck, nervously.

"It's okay, mom," he tried, pausing to think before continuing. "Can I still be your... son?"

* * *

**Author's Note  
**Weird. Strange. AU. Messed up. I know. I think up some strange stuff at midnight, and this adds to the collection. XD Not sure where it came from, though, or why the hell I decided to write it instead of finishing the next chapter of Psyched Out, like I _should _have been doing.  
-yawns- I'm going to bed, I think... –tries to get out of computer chair and collapses in the process-

Peace,  
-MoonlightUmbreon


	2. Lightning Rod: An Ethical Nightmare 1

**Author's Note  
**I hope this is entertaining. I split it into two parts, since it's rather a bit long for just a oneshot.

* * *

**Lightning Rod; An Ethical Nightmare  
Part 1 of 2  
-MoonlightUmbreon-**

* * *

It was a bad day in Amity Park.

However, 'bad' didn't seem to be the right descriptor. If anything, a storm like this was barely short of a hurricane.

Lightning, shot off in so many different directions at once, illuminated the dark black clouds as it tore through them in great flashes. Rain poured down in gallons, clogging up drains with all the litter it had steadily washed into them. Wind howled in one of the biggest gales Amity Park had seen in years. It all combined into something that, the citizens had decided, was far worse than any ghost attack.

FentonWorks had been taking a fair thrashing from the storm, mainly due to the Emergency Op Centre giving the wind more to push against. Not even the eccentric Maddie and Jack Fenton could take their eyes off of this unholy force.

The Fenton parents had been spending their day doing their best to strengthen the foundations of the house, and had been trying to board the windows up as best they could - without being blown away. During the worse parts of the storm, the whole family sheltered inside the basement. The sound of the Op Centre creaking on the roof was never a good sign.

However, there was one thing they didn't even think to safeguard against at a time like this.

The Fenton Ghost Portal was wide open...

And nobody was doing anything about it.

* * *

Mayor Vlad Masters, living in the richer section of the town, wasn't having nearly as many problems with the weather as everyone else.

This was because he simply _wasn't there_ to witness the roof of his mansion become completely torn off, or to witness countless expensive artworks become destroyed in the weather. Right now, he was, and had been for the last few days, stranded in the Ghost Zone.

Something had happened that he'd never expected. Sure, he'd known that many ghosts feared him because of his power and his ability to use it effectively. But he'd always thought that it was a grudging respect, rather than a growing plot to have him taken out once and for all.

He'd been fighting constantly for over fifty hours; ghosts had been attacking him not one at a time, but all at once. He'd lost far too much energy to duplicate himself and make his escape, leaving him right in the middle of one of the biggest ghost brawls he'd ever experienced.

Even the ever-optimistic Vlad Plasmius had to admit that he probably wasn't coming out of this. He'd been holding his own for so long against so many ghosts, but his efforts had been futile, as it seemed that there were twice as many for every group he defeated.

He was ragged around the edges, just about ready to completely give up and the ghosts _still_ were attacking unrelentlessly. All of the pain aching through his body, the frustration, the sorrow, they combined into one.

He could feel the result pushing towards the palm of his hand - one of his last reserves of ectoplasmic energy. It wasn't just the strange tingling of an ectoblast - this energy burned with a vicious pink flame.

As a last ditch effort, he knew he'd have to give it his best. The Fenton Ghost Portal was only a little way away, and if he managed to move the right ghosts out of the road, he might just have been able to make it through.

This new kind of ectoblast flared as it was shot from his hand, the rebound feeling more like a cannonball than an energy shot.

The wall of ghosts it was aimed at suddenly weren't even there anymore. They drifted off, barely keeping form, unmoving.

Though quite taken aback by the sudden appearance of this power in his time of need, Vlad still didn't waste any time in getting out as fast as he could. He flew, possibly faster than he'd ever flown before, straight in the direction of the open portal doors.

Just before he burst through, he reverted back to Masters. It wasn't so much because he didn't want to be seen by the Fentons as the Wisconsin Ghost, but more because he simply lacked the energy to hold his ghost form any longer.

* * *

Danny, tired from boarding up some of the upstairs windows on the inside, stumbled down to the lab where he could rest. The basement, in many ways, was built like a bomb shelter. It couldn't survive a blast from the inside, like a filtrator explosion, but it was certainly built for defence against outside attacks.

The small, teenage half-ghost stopped dead when he saw his archenemy lying on the floor, just next to the portal lever, unconscious. His sharp black business suit was torn up, his hair askew, and he graced cuts, bruises, scars and scrapes over every inch of his body.

"..._Vlad?!_"

The Mayor of Amity Park didn't answer. Danny looked around for any evidence of what had happened, eventually coming to the conclusion that Vlad had gone into the Ghost Zone and been attacked in the process, forcing him to make an escape through _their _portal. It looked like he'd managed to close it and prevent the ghosts from coming through just before he'd passed out...

* * *

Vladimir Masters, multi-billionaire mayor of Amity Park, awoke on top of the Fenton's dissection table.

With an agonised groan, he rolled over and clutched a particularly painful part on his side. He'd been bludgeoned in that location more than several times, and he could tell that it had _already_ become a massive bruise.

But that didn't really matter, when you put things in perspective. There were parts of him bandaged up, and his suit completely blood-soaked. He was quite hungry, and his head was spinning, just to add to the trouble.

Vlad had been so busy recognising what was wrong with him that he hadn't noticed that the Fentons had been watching over him. Maddie and Jack were attempting to inject him with something, and Jazz appeared to be doing her best to make him comfortable. Danny, however, was nowhere to be found.

Jack grinned broadly, making excited waving motions with his arms. And then, totally contrary to all feasible forms of logic, grabbed Vlad around the shoulders and hugged him, managing to hit all the wrong cuts and bruises in the process. It stole the breath out of Vlad's mouth, made his eyes pop, and otherwise rendered him helpless to the unforgiving grasp of his old college buddy.

"Glad to have you back, V-man!"

"...J-J-Jack..." he whimpered in reply, wanting desperately to phase through the ghost hunter, but not _daring_. It was only Maddie who saved him, telling her husband sharply that he was only causing Vlad more pain, despite his well-meaning attempt to comfort him. Jack put him down, a sheepish smile covering his face.

"Sorry... just glad to know you're alright. We didn't know whether you'd actually wake up or not."

"Jack's right..." Maddie frowned, lightly brushing her fingers over Vlad's forehead. "It really is a miracle you survived. We were about to call an ambulance, but our scanner indicated that your collapsed lung – it was just... it was _fixing _itself. That was just a minute before you woke up. I've never seen something so absurd happen at just the right time."

"I guess we'll never know..." Vlad stated weakly. His consciousness wasn't going to hold together for too much longer – he could already feel it petering out. With one last effort, he gave the woman he loved a small, slightly longing smile, and then succumbed to the peaceful, quiet, painless, and most importantly, Jack-free oblivion.

However, he found himself woken up in the middle of the night by the awful creaking sounds, originating from the roof. The sound of thunder roaring just added to the effect.

He did, on the other hand, feel much better than he did. In fact, it was like most of his wounds had already healed properly. That was quite a possibility – being a half ghost granted Vlad insane healing speeds, for which he was eternally grateful for. Especially after a beating like that; really, he should have been dead, and he knew it.

Slowly, he got up from his hard bed, knowing he'd have to regain the energy he'd lost from somewhere. And, right in front of him, the laboratory offered the answer. Long ago he'd learned that ecto filtrators, when new, were a great power source for a ghost. Without hesitation Vlad approached the shelf where they were kept, popped open one of the tubes, stuck his finger in it, and allowed it to absorb into his ghost half. He could feel the lost reserves of energy restoring, and, even though he hadn't noticed it before, his hungry stomach refilling.

"V-man?"

The call echoed through the basement, causing Vlad to nearly drop the filtrator altogether. He stayed still, like a statue, hoping to God that Jack wouldn't notice him and would just walk away. Vlad had been so sure that there was no one in the lab, but obviously he hadn't looked properly.

Jack sounded increasingly concerned the further he approached. "What are you doing with that filtrator...?"

"I'm, uh, _checking_, Jack. Just checking to see that nothing contaminated it. After I was thrown out of the Ghost Zone, one of the ghosts followed me out and had a bit of a fiddle with it."

"...With your bare _finger?_"

"You see-"

"Don't lie." Jack cut him off, although softly, and gulped. "We're such great friends – we shouldn't lie to each other. Vlad, I found out your secret. No one else knows – I just – when I took a blood test, I looked, and... your blood cells are infused with ectoplasm. That's why you healed so quickly... you're half ghost."

Vlad stood there, stunned. He could feel those bright, angry red eyes surfacing to the top, but pushed them back as far as he could. There was no way of convincing someone otherwise after something like this, so he really didn't know what to do. He stuttered a few times, before closing his mouth and deciding not to say anything. It hadn't been part of his anticipations.

There was a very awkward silence that followed, where neither party had any idea of what to do next. Eventually, Jack shuffled his feet and patted Vlad on the back.

"It was the accident with the proto-portal, wasn't it?"

Vlad began to chew on his lip, trying to get his thoughts straight. The only option his brain was giving him was 'Kill Jack', but he didn't want to do that. Not now, anyway. There'd be time for Jack-killing later.

"Yes, but there hasn't been any other affects, thankfully. However, the ectoplasm in my blood means that I need to replenish it occasionally. That's all. I forgave you for this quite a while ago."

"Actually, it has affected you more than I think you know. While I was watching you, when you were unconscious, parts of you shifted out of phase at random, and you healing so _quickly_..."

That's it! He knows too much! Vlad thought, gritting his teeth. Something would have to be done about Jack in case he told anyone; especially Maddie, which would most-likely happen. Vlad's thoughts looped like a mantra, always coming back to the core issue – the need to have Jack dead.

"Fine, Jack... you're _such_ a good friend, after all... as long as you will not say anything – to _anyone_, I'll show you what that accident did to me."

Jack stumbled backwards in terrified amazement when he saw his old college buddy turn into none other than the Wisconsin Ghost. He'd known the billionaire was half ghost, but he didn't know he had an entirely different ghost _form_. And, nonetheless, _this _one...

"You turned me into a _monster_, Jack Fenton. You _stole_ the love of my life while I was rotting away in hospital. And then you rubbed my nose in it _each_ and _every_ time I attempted to have you assassinated!"

"V-man..."

"Don't you _dare_ call me that!" Vlad spat, smacking Jack over the face with a gloved hand. The strength of it sent Jack careening across the laboratory, knocking several beakers clean off the table behind him. Vlad glared at him, eyes aglow. And in one of the most menacing voices imaginable, he whispered, "Jack Addison Fenton, _fear me_, for I will tear you apart, piece by piece, just as you tore apart my own hopes and dreams."

Jack said nothing, only able to stare at his old college buddy's rage. It burned in Vlad's eyes, nearly tangible enough to leap out and grab him. Jack couldn't work out whether he was scared or sad, or a mixture between the two...

Horrifyingly strong pink ectoplasmic power encircled Vlad's two hands, crackling and sparking, even smouldering. It flickered like a flame, and yet, it looked almost as if it was alive at the same time.

Vlad was just about to aim and fire at a terrified Jack, with every intention of killing and, possibly, even disintegrating him. However, whether what happened next was a stroke of good or bad luck for him was up for debate. Danny had been roused in his sleep, having heard Vlad's yelling, and had proceeded to invisibly phase down into the basement as Phantom. Jazz had been up in the kitchen pouring herself some cocoa, and had come down the stairs to check up on what all the commotion was about.

Danny nearly dropped his invisibility and fell out of the air when he saw what Vlad's glowing palms were aimed at. Without even thinking, he dived at Vlad and tackled him to the ground, throwing his aim off.

Unfortunately, Vlad had already began the process of firing the deadly ray. And instead of hitting Jack –

A mug of cocoa rolled down the rest of the stairs, spilling its contents over the laboratory floor.


	3. Lightning Rod: An Ethical Nightmare 2

**Author's Note  
**There's this one bit of language in this chapter, although it's not what I'd call swearing, and it shouldn't bother anyone. I'm very sorry if it does.

This part was _extremely _hard to write. Seriously, while I never had writer's block, I had some real problems just making things _sound _right. I hope I've effectively fixed up those problems, now that this is posted.

* * *

**Lightning Rod; An Ethical Nightmare  
Part 2 of 2  
-MoonlightUmbreon-**

**

* * *

**

Danny screamed. It was all he could think of to do. The cogs and gears in his brain stopped altogether, leaving him frozen in midair, shaking. He saw it in stop-motion; the red-haired girl he knew as his sister slowly, agonisingly, clutched the base of her neck as she was blasted backwards and slammed into the stairs. The mug in her hand came loose and fell from her grip, the cocoa flying through the air and splattering on the ground.

Jazz's teeth were gritted together as she, with great effort, brought her head back up, bulging aqua eyes staring in to that of Vlad's. His were remorseless, red, _empty_.... She attempted to say something, but found her voice and her breath had been snatched away from her throat.

Jack couldn't see what was happening around the corner, because it was out of his line of vision. But he'd heard his daughter's strangled gasp, and even took notice of the ghost kid's horrified scream, which somehow managed to rebound and come from every direction, trapping the lab in the middle.

The last thing Jazz said was nothing but a whisper; heard by none except for those with exceptionally sharp hearing.

"_Uncle Vlad..._" She choked, desperately trying to take control of her shaking voice and throbbing neck. "_Why did you do it, Uncle Vlad...?_"

That day, in the Fenton's basement laboratory, Vlad showed his first expression of remorse in over twenty years, as the teenage daughter of the love of his life closed her eyes forever.

Danny finally regained possession of his ailing mental control, diving so quickly towards her that he looked more like a black and white streak. He'd already frantically checked for even the smallest of breaths and a pulse before Jack got to her, but Jazz was... gone. Even though he refused to accept it, he could _feel_ it. Her presence was... lost.

Jack pushed Danny out of the way instinctively, crashing down before his fallen daughter and performing the exact same procedure as his son. Of course, it turned up nothing, as Jack's face plainly indicated when he turned his head to face his old friend.

"Call an ambulance."

"Jack, I-"

"_CALL ONE!_" Jack bellowed in command, loud enough to be heard by all of Amity Park atop the thunder. An awful, crushing silence followed, where the only thing to be heard was the distant creaking of the roof.

Vlad didn't move. He just stood there, becoming paler than his skin usually allowed. Jack eventually, though not without questioning himself on why he was doing this, turned to Danny with a pleading look.

Danny looked up, trying to get a grip of himself by rubbing off the few green ectoplasmic tears that had appeared in his eyes. "Dad, get mom and tell her what happened. And – and while you're upstairs, call 911. I'll look after Jazz."

Jack looked at him with the kind of shocked curiosity that seriously worried Danny. And then – something that worried him even more – a sudden, though short-lived, dawning look of enlightenment. It was only after Danny's dad had raced up the stairs that he realised his very small, very _important_ mistake.

Though really, in perspective, it didn't matter. All Danny's thoughts did were loop straight back to his sister. He didn't notice nor care about the vampiric ghost behind him, trying instead to hold his sister at a point where the stairs weren't grating into her back. Not that that helped anything....

But then it really hit him. Vlad had done this. Even though Danny had knocked his aim off, he was still aiming to kill Jack and therefore a part of his family. And instead, he'd ended up taking Jazz.

What had Jazz done to deserve _this?_

Danny picked her up carefully, and then placed her on the floor in what looked like a more comfortable position. He proceeded to look up at Vlad with painstaking slowness. "You killed her."

Vlad couldn't really say anything. He wasn't overcome by remorse – he'd gotten over that in less than a minute. Instead, he was overcome by shock. He hadn't meant to kill the girl at all....

Danny stared at him, blankly. It made the boy look unearthly – almost as though he'd been possessed by a kind of demon. It wasn't just the blank staring, either; there was a strange sparkle in his eyes that had nothing to do with inspiration.

Vlad's eyebrows knitted together, though the movement itself was hard to pick. Both hybrids stared at each other for what seemed the longest time, and while their expressions were unreadable, the air between them was colder than the chill of the Antarctic winds. Anyone who had've been watching would never have seen it coming, and yet, at the same time, what was going to happen was blindingly obvious...

In short, Danny's face twisted into something that could have been brought up from the depths of hell as he dived without warning. Vlad barely had time to react before the teenage half ghost had him pinned to the ground, snarling.

"You killed my sister!"

"Daniel-!"

"You killed her! Jazz! You killed Jazz! I'll _kill_ you!"

Danny's hands headed straight for his archenemy's throat. He was barely thinking. He never thought he'd ever want to kill someone, to feel that horrible urge to reach into someone's chest and pull out their heart; not even for Vlad. But at this very moment, it was unbelievable – a rage like no other Danny had ever felt; even against his future self. Because this time someone really had died.

"It was _your_ fault, Daniel!"

That was where Danny froze, staring at Vlad's eyes in horror and disbelief.

"You heard me! If you hadn't have pushed me aside, then that ray would never have hit young Jasmine."

"You _bastard!_" Danny screamed, tears beginning to trail down his cheeks. "You were trying to kill my dad! It's ALL your fault! If you weren't trying to kill him, then Jazz wouldn't be dead! You bastard!"

"You're trying to give the blame away when it really is your fault, Daniel. At least _face up _to what you caused, blundering about just like your idiot of an old man."

"_Take it back!_"

"You _know _it, Daniel!"

What exactly Vlad was trying to do with these mind games was up for discussion. Perhaps on the contrary, he himself was trying to move the blame to Danny, just for his own mental wellbeing. Whatever the reason, however, it only seemed to provoke Danny, who ended up punching Vlad in the nose as hard as he could. There was a horrible crunching sound as his fist connected, and judging by the way Vlad's nose was bent and the amount of blood that poured out of it after the blow, it was well and truly broken.

The older hybrid choked and spat out reddish green blood, glaring up at the younger. Danny might have been fuelled by anger, but Vlad knew that on a level playing ground, he could outwit, outlast and overpower Danny any day of the year. In one swift motion, he threw himself to his feet and elbowed Danny in the mouth, knocking the boy to the ground.

"Yo're dust a _silliy li'le boy_ 'oo needs do ged his brioribies in orda!" It was supposed to sound menacing, although even Vlad had to admit, that through a broken nose, it wasn't very menacing at all. It somehow took the credibility out when it sounded as though he had a very bad cold.

Danny growled, diving for one of the tables against the walls, where some weapons had been left unattended from his parents' various tinkerings. He had no idea what exactly he'd just picked up, but whatever it was, it looked like it'd hurt.

The playing field wasn't level anymore.

Vlad knew that he had no choice but to flee. He didn't know what the mystery weapon did either, but wasn't exactly willing to be the first to find out. Trying to blast it out of Danny's hands would need tedious aiming that he didn't have time for. Even if the sky wasn't a good place to be during a storm like this, he didn't trust his chances in such an enclosed area.

Danny had it aimed and was about to fire, but the billionaire was too quick for him. He'd already managed to jump into the air and make his escape through the roof of the basement. But that, of course, meant nothing to Danny. Holding the enormous weapon tightly in his grip, he allowed intangibility to pour through his body, and continued on to disregard a number of _very important _physical laws.

Jack, who'd gone unnoticed when he'd come back down the stairs with Maddie, now saw Danny Fenton in a very different light – especially when he burst into a solid mass of concrete, metal, and a number of other very strong compounds with absolutely no physical resistance.

* * *

The whole of Amity Park knows about Danny Phantom and Vlad Plasmius's fight on that wretched day, though few actually saw it with their own eyes.

There was one person who saw the fight in full – it was Jack. Maddie had ridden on the ambulance with Jazz, even though everyone knew that there simply was no hope. Neither parent really had the time to pull out of shock and grieve, either, as their son battled their college friend with such an unrelentless hate it was surprising he hadn't blown up in the middle of the sky and taken several city blocks with him.

Jack followed the ghost fight through the town in the Fenton Family Ghost Assault Vehicle, finding that driving like a maniac was a lot easier with the other drivers off the roads and out of the weather, and also a lot harder with the storm pushing the 'RV' in all kinds of unwanted directions.

Up in the sky, Danny wasn't fighting for his life. Vlad was.

The wind churned, blowing the combatants the wrong way, causing them to misfire, misconnect, and become more lost than anything else. Though Danny was still winning in terms of obvious advantages, and was frustratedly trying to shoot at what he, through the storm, thought was Vlad. (not to mention, with a weapon that was voted No. 1 in the yearly contest by _The Ghost Hunter's Association of Ridiculously Unnecessary Firepower_)

They'd been up there for over five minutes, and still neither had actually connected with each other. The storm blew them around like paper, and lightning was a constant threat. Especially, Jack thought uncomfortably, considering Danny was holding a highly-powered ectoplasmic weapon that was made mostly with _metal_.

And all through this, there wasn't any banter at all. Not even a single dryly-said comment, sarcastic statement, or any signs of any use of the vocal chords at all. These two were locked in an eerie silent combat, apart from, of course, the roll of thunder, the pounding of rain, the gusting of winds and the whining of a charging ectoplasmic weapon.

Vlad's bloody nose dripped down everywhere, but the rain was so strong; it was just washed away. By the time it'd hit the ground, it was unnoticeable. The pain, however, Vlad thought bitterly, was _not _gone. And it only intensified when Danny hit him squarely in the face with a devastatingly large neon energy beam.

It was like being struck over the head with a flying mallet. If Vlad's nose wasn't broken before, it certainly was now. The electrical charge in the weapon forced his hair to stand on end much more than it usually did, (even through the horrendous rain and wind) and his face had been turned into something you wouldn't have wanted to be forced to look at for long periods of time.

Thankfully for Vlad, Danny seemed to be losing his grip on the gun. It was incredibly heavy to be attempting to drag it around in the wind, and it had already taken much effort on Danny's part to keep from dropping it. Large amounts of firepower came at a price, especially in this kind of weather.

Vlad bit through the pain in his head – which felt more like it was one enormous tumour – and used the opportune moment to his advantage. Right now, he was very glad ghosts didn't need to breathe, because otherwise the blood running down his throat would have probably choked him to death. Before Danny could react, Vlad ripped it from his gloved fingers and quickly pulled away, making it impossible to snatch back.

Vlad was, when you got right down to it, forty-something with at least twenty years of experience. Danny was but a fragile teenager. The teen really didn't stand much of a chance against a gun like that; one shot was enough to make Vlad looking like he'd been mauled – he hated to think what it'd do to _him_...

And so the fight reversed, this time with Danny flying for his life and Vlad chasing in pursuit. The anger between the two combatants was obvious to anyone who happened to be watching – each move was highly calculated and yet completely and utterly desperate at the same time. Danny quickly avoided the mass of shots fired in his general direction, though not without some difficulty.

Jack had trouble keeping up even with the RV, as the two half ghost hybrids streaked through the clouds. Their directions changed in a sporadic fashion; dodging and attacking each other combined with gale-force winds took them all over Amity Park, before they ended up over the Western Side, near where the abandoned mining shaft was from back in the old days.

This small fact, of course, didn't stop them. And though the banter never really even got started, their intentions were clear. Both parties knew it was going to be kill or be killed. Danny went back on the offensive, deciding that that was going to be the only way to pull the weapon away from Vlad's grip. In a failed attempt, he attempted to shoot an ectoblast into Vlad, but found it sailing off in the wrong direction.

Vlad refrained from smiling due to the throbbing pains aching through his face, but even without his expression, it was obvious that he was gloating smugly. Danny tried to hear what his archenemy was saying when he finally did speak up, but found that the storm was just too loud. Still, he kept on listening, trying to pick it up.

At least, until the huge ectoplasmic weapon, and consequently, Vlad, attracted a thick, unforgiving bolt of lightning. It lasted only a second, but that was easily enough to knock him cold.

Vlad's one saving grace was that it might have been the first time he'd honestly attracted anything.

Danny's jaw dropped, however, as Vlad plummeted a few hundred metres through the air, bright pink sparks shooting from him as he went. Gravity wasn't merciful on a half ghost when he was unconscious, and neither was whatever remained of the tattered laws of physics. He couldn't hold his ghost form whilst in a state like this, and ended up reverting to his usual business-suited self before drilling into the ground next to the mine like a meteor.

As if the situation wasn't bad enough, the universe had one more thing in store for the likes of Vlad Masters. He was just close enough to the edge so that, when the wind blew...

Into the shaft he fell.

Jack couldn't get anywhere near where Vlad had fallen because most of the area was fenced off, but Danny could. He landed just above the huge hole in the ground and stared down it. If there was a bottom, then he couldn't see it. The source of all his hurt, his pain, his sadness – it was lying pathetically at the bottom of that shaft, helpless, and probably rather close to death.

It was another one of those times where Danny's brain simply _stopped_. All of the sprockets clicked out of place and jammed, leaving him nothing short of a glowing statue.

In desperation, Danny's father broke through the fence and ran up to his son, narrowly avoiding slipping into the shaft himself. Without saying a word, he grabbed Danny and held him tightly, rocking back and forth.

If it hadn't have been raining so heavily, Danny would have felt three fat splodges from his dad's eyes land on the black part of his jumpsuit.

After a few moments of silence, Jack steered back in the direction of the RV, not daring to look back at the mine. He bit his lip down, looking at what he'd been attempting to dissect for over a year. Danny received another strangle-style hug as he was placed in the back seat of the Assault Vehicle.

But... something struck him. He'd wanted to kill Vlad, sure. He'd wanted to tear him limb from limb, as slowly and painfully as possible, but... now he wasn't so sure. He might have been Vlad, but Danny was about to leave him to, quite literally, die in a hole.

Which made Danny no better than the older half ghost himself.

"Dad?"

"Yes...?" Jack replied cautiously, looking into his son's eyes. His son's unnaturally _green _eyes...

"I should get Vlad out of there..."

Jack wore a pained expression; it tore his conscience in half, this statement. But after today... there was only one answer. He looked away from the boy's eyes, and with a dark look, he replied; "Danny... sometimes... when some people are in peril... sometimes... it's better for everyone if they're just left that way."

Whether his father's statement was true or not, Danny really didn't know...


	4. Whatever the Cost

**Author's Note  
**HAPPY... SOMETHING DAY SHINY-SAMA! Yep, this is a gift for you, and by _Gods _you deserve it. This is the sad, twisted tale of the desperate measures Vlad resorts to when his secret is revealed to Maddie.

Who knows? You might just feel sorry for the guy. ;)

PS: Sorry, I know I didn't answer all the last reviews... I'll get to that tomorrow, hopefully. Thank-you all for reading Lightning Rod, though! I really appreciate it!

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**Whatever the Cost  
-MoonlightUmbreon-**

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In Amity Park, Illinois, there are three Golden – though unwritten – Rules that you should follow. They're an essential part of your health and general wellbeing. And though they are seldom spoken of, they're etched into every inhabitant's brain with a red-hot poker.

For a human; never tangle in the affairs of ghosts, unless, of course, you're a head donor.

For a ghost; never tangle in the affairs of ghost hunters, humans, or Phantom, unless you want to be crammed into – no, I'm not kidding – a _thermos_ for at least a day, and then shoved back into the Ghost Zone with as much force as necessary.

For a half-ghost hybrid; never, EVER let anyone know you have a ghost half. You'll be shunned in the Ghost Zone for having a human half and dissected as an experiment in the real world for having ectoplasm run in your veins.

Vlad Masters, multi-billionaire mayor of Amity Park, was a half-ghost. He had a tall stance, an English accent, and a strangely malevolent grin consistently plastered across his face. None of this, however, saved him from accidentally breaking his Golden Rule. And now, unfortunately, he was staring down the wrong end of a freakishly large barrel.

He was stunned, needless to say. Especially when whom was pointing it at him was Maddie Fenton – still the love of his life after twenty years, and fifteen years of marriage on her part. Too bad she wasn't exactly that keen on him anymore. Well, she hadn't _ever _been keen, but now she seemed to hate him with nothing less than a burning passion.

How he'd slipped, he'd never know. Vlad had been in perfect control of his powers since a few months after he'd received them; to have them briefly malfunction there, right at that very moment in time, was about the worst luck he'd ever had. Aside from the fact that he was probably about to be vaporised (and that was getting off lightly), he'd just blown his last-ditch chance at Madeline Fenton once and for all. There couldn't be any way that she'd _ever_ accept him again...

The gun nudged his forehead, and Vlad had to admit that it really was quite brutal for just a nudge. Maddie wasn't happy at all, and she _showed _it. A large part of Vlad's heart melted in despair.

"Maddie, look, this _really isn't-"_

"Save it!" she screeched, shoving the weapon further into Vlad's temple. "You filthy lying putrid _ghost!_ All these years of crime, betrayal and _plotting! _Don't you _dare_ think you can _ever _come and waltz into my house to spread your ectoplasmic filth _again!_"

These few agonisingly long moments, Vlad decided, had to be worse than death itself. Staring into Maddie's livid eyes was more like slowly diving into the bowels of hell. It hurt Vlad. Sure, it was an internal kind of hurt, but it still hurt him more than he was willing to admit.

Maddie had him out of the house quicker than Jack driving the RV. She trooped him out, blood boiling in her veins, continuing to hold the Fenton Bazooka to his head in a shaky fury.

Vlad ended up returning to his mansion on the richer side of Amity Park, nearly in tears. Maddie had seen him right out of the street, just to make sure he was actually leaving; the raw hate she was channelling might as well have been tangible.

There had to be something, Vlad thought desperately, that he could do to make it up to her. Well, anything even slightly above the purest forms of hatred, anyway. When he got back inside his house, he sat down on his big, expensive chair and cradled his white, fluffy, expensive cat while he rested. Really, he continued on, she couldn't actually be angry at _him_. Yes; she was angry at _Plasmius_. Plasmius had done all the wrongs. Granted, Plasmius was as good as him anyway... but she didn't have to know that.

Vlad leaned forward, deep in thought. So deep that he hadn't noticed Maddie the cat tip off his lap with an unsettled yowl. Perhaps, if he could separate himself from Plasmius and then give her a bit of a talk of the so-called physics of the whole situation, then things would straighten out. At least enough, of course, that she wouldn't shoot him the next time she saw him.

However, that was an extremely extreme measure. Vlad knew that ripping his ghost half out was the equivalent of ripping out half of himself; he'd be two separate beings, and would probably be unable to merge back together.

But even extremely extreme measures were all worth it for Madeline Fenton.

* * *

It was the next day when Vlad picked up the phone, albeit nervously. He twiddled it in his fingers, knowing exactly what he was going to say like it was in a script. Well, he had rehearsed it. He wasn't going to get this wrong.

Maddie appeared on the other end of the line and asked warily who it was. She sounded as though she still had some heavy things on her mind, but was trying to hide it. Vlad took a breath, but found all of his rehearsed words try to force their way out at once, resulting in a strangled sound at the other end.

"Hello? Who _is _that...?" the ghost hunter's voice trailed off, but then fired right back up. "_Vlad?!_"

Finally, the billionaire managed to spit out the garbled mess of a poem in quick succession, hoping to God that his poor poetry skills hadn't bled into the verse.

"_There's no limit to how much I love you,  
and no length too extreme to do.  
Please, Maddie; listen to what I have to say-  
I'm going to split myself in two."_

Before Maddie had time to react beyond anything but a gasp, Vlad slammed the phone down and breathed in and out, deeply. He had no idea what her reaction was going to be, and the part of him that forced the phone feebly back onto the hook really didn't want to know, anyway.

Although another yearning part of him hoped desperately that she'd pick the phone up again to tell him not to take part in such a self-destructive act. Of course, that didn't happen. On the other end, Maddie still hadn't returned her phone back to its rightful place; her brain was trying and failing to catch up with the situation presented.

Vladimir Masters waited for that one call for over an hour. He stood in front of the receiver, every so often taking a glance at the time or a disgruntled Maddie-cat, but the love of his life never replied. Dejectedly, the billionaire allowed himself to drop through the floor and into his experimental basement.

His basement – in other words, his secret ghost laboratory – was much like the Fentons. There were beakers, there were strange glowing fluids, there were painful-looking weapons, there was a ghost portal.... The only real difference, other than the neatness of the room, was that there wasn't any obvious way to get in; the entrance was missing entirely.

Vlad didn't bother to transform while he was down there. Instead, he paced, eyes jumping from gadget to weapon to gadget. One in particular caught his eye.

The Plasmius Maximus.

It was a device capable of shorting out a ghost's powers for three hours – and in the case of a half ghost, it left them completely unable to transform for the same period of time. However, three hours simply wasn't long enough. Vlad knew that he'd have to short his powers out, say, once a month. That way, he could still use them every now and then when the need arose, and fool Maddie at the same time. It'd take a day to fix it up, but...

Well, it was better than tearing himself down the middle, at any rate.

* * *

The forty year-old half ghost grimaced at his invention. It wasn't working out at all; sure, he had the sprockets in the right place, the gears oiled, the wires correctly positioned... everything was there.

And yet it still refused to work.

Well, sure, it _worked_, but he couldn't get it to work beyond three hours. It made him feel like he should just hurl it into the bin and be done with the nightmare once and for all. Obviously, it just wasn't going to be possible to short out his own ghost powers and therefore conceal his ghost half for a decent amount of time, which would prove problematic. Those shocks, after all, felt like you'd just stuck a knife in a high-voltage electricity main. Sooner or later he'd end up going into cardiac arrest – and it _was _a bit hard to build a relationship with someone when you were either in hospital receiving a heart transplant or worse; dead.

He tapped his fingers on a clean space of bench, thinking wistfully at what could have been. If only he'd never received ghost powers, then perhaps Maddie would have been _his_, not the idiotic Jack Fenton's. It would be Maddie _Masters_, not Fenton. They would have bought a farm somewhere in Wisconsin – a nice little place; not one of those huge, empty mansions. They'd work together in the dairy industry, and...

Vlad trailed off in his daydream, almost _daring _to believe it was real. Unfortunately, his fantasies were far too little too late.

Later that day, he picked up the phone and dialled the one number he knew by heart.

"_Today I tried and failed  
to short my ghost half out.  
But I couldn't do it;  
yet I'm not going to go and pout._

"_I will do anything for you,  
my dear.  
Don't even give me a clue;  
I've wanted you forever,  
and now I know what I should do._

"_Shorting my ghost half was an incomplete idea;  
something that wasn't permanent at all.  
So I've decided to _really_ split myself in half today;  
it's just how far I'm willing to fall._

"_Because whatever it takes-  
whatever the cost...  
I'll keep trying 'till I've lost."_

There was silence on the other end. After a good ten seconds, Vlad couldn't take it anymore and returned the phone to the hook with a shaky hand. Poetry wasn't his strong point by any means, but he was at least hoping to invoke a reaction of some kind.

Still, he was motivated. He was going to go through with this, and he was going to do it right. Perhaps if he split himself right in front of her, and then destroyed his ghost half, then she'd (falsely, of course) realise that he wasn't all bad and that the worst of his personality had died with Plasmius.

A part of him, deep inside, urged him not to do it. Vlad ignored that part; Maddie was far better than any ghost, and that included himself.

But there was still one problem.

How _did _you get rid of ghost powers, anyway? Vlad thought about it for some time, before coming to a conclusion. If a ghost portal powering up _gave _him a ghost half, then what would happen if he powered it down? In theory, it could remove his ghost half altogether as the ectoplasm was sucked out of the main portal in preparation for shutdown.

In theory, of course.

Still, it was the only idea he had. It'd certainly hurt when the original proto-portal had blasted him in the face, but that wasn't going to stop him. If it meant that he was going to win over Maddie as a result, then he didn't care how damaging it was to him.

A black ring formed around his waistline, splitting and moving in opposite directions. As they went, they revealed his vampire-like ghost half, which he stared at for possibly the last time. That strangled part of him was now screaming and jeering at Vlad's mind not to do it, but his mind was set. Well and truly _set_.

In fact, he was actually a little scared. If it _didn't _work out, then what else could he do? He'd be left bitter and alone for the rest of his life, and it'd get progressively worse as time went on. _That _in Vlad's mind, was a thought horrifying enough to provoke anyone into doing anything.

He headed back into his laboratory and picked out a prototype weapon that he'd been working on for months – originally he'd designed it in case the need ever arose to extinguish Daniel altogether, but now he knew he could use it for something else. Gingerly, he picked it up and looked it over, wondering how his ghost half would react once separated. Like him, he'd expect, but would it accept being vaporised? It probably would gain a kind of consciousness – or at least have a duplicate of his own, at any rate.

Vlad approached the portal, now more nervous than ever. It was now that he'd find out if he'd ever have another chance at Maddie ever again – the centre of his entire life.

Biting down on his lip, the billionaire entered some combinations into the security lock, and then recoded some of the programming. He also replaced the ecto-filtrator, which should have hopefully encouraged a bit of a cleaner 'accident'.

If only Vlad had known, when he stepped inside that portal and directed it to power down, that his ghost half had become so hopelessly attached to him over the years that his human body just couldn't cope without it, anymore...


	5. Metaphorical Manipulation

**Author's Note**

Holy heck, I updated! -le gaspe- Oh well. This is a crazy little drabble that I cooked up in about 45 minutes when it was bugging my mind. Hopefully you'll get perhaps another update out of me sooner or later. It feels good to update something, even if it is only a oneshot collection. -laughs- Hope you enjoy!

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**Metaphorical Manipulation  
-MoonlightUmbreon-**

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And then the Universe tore in two.

Nobody seemed to quite know how it had happened. Some say it was one of the more recent ghost fights, but, oh, I know _so_ much better. I _saw _it happen. It was a ghastly abomination upon this town, and probably, eventually, the world.

It's like a hand manipulating those who simply wanted to avoid more problems. Forget the word of God; this was much more like Lucifer himself grabbing greedily at the people, seeing what he could make them do... turning an uneasy peace quickly into that of horror.

I sat and watched, more-or-less untouched, by the sidelines. I'd been possessed a few times by these unholy metaphorical 'hands'; free thought was all that we were given. Our bodies were moved for us, made to do things we would never normally do, and we became the objects of their hungry obsessions.

They always wanted _more!_

_More, more, more!_

And when the hands couldn't get more, they attacked viciously. Many, so many of us ended up dead – a number of specific people hundreds of times over. And somehow, we were always back, ready and waiting in fear for the next hand to come and control us.

I still have my mind. It's something that many lost, so many years ago, due to repeated manipulation. I'm surprised I still have it, really... I wouldn't have been surprised if it had've evaporated in the chaos long since.

And that poor Phantom kid, he was the worst off by far. He'd been snatched and manipulated so many times that reality, for him, had lost all meaning. He'd loved those he'd never known, loved those he'd never love, and had killed those who'd never deserved. He'd been beaten and bashed and bruised and even killed. He'd even suicided more than several times – all because the hands had forced him to do it.

His best friends and family hadn't had a great time of it, either. As they were his immediate links to everything, they saw so much of the terrifying occurrences and albeit, were often forced to be a part of them.

On the few days when good things happened, there always seemed to be a drawback on all of us. It has been such a struggle to live in this chaotic world, even for me – if the Fentons and anyone else directly linked to Phantom had any dignity or free will left, then it was on the first rocket sled out of town.

It's so hard to live in this place. A place of invisible hands where we are the puppets, and are not consented to do anything we want to do. A place where even the usual turnoff from being a teacher simply does not apply.

Welcome to simply one place, one world, two dimensions... that have become the victims of fanfiction.


	6. Vinaceous and Virescent

**Author's Note  
**First off, I want to offer congratulations to anyone who knows the definition of these two words that make up the title _without _looking them up. XD I needed something to write, and this filled the spot quite nicely. Gee, I _never _write about Valerie, too. What a rare occurrence... :/

Well, here goes! Hope you enjoy! This is a pre-Kindred Spirits fic. ;)

* * *

**Vinaceous and Virescent  
-MoonlightUmbreon-**

* * *

It came in the form of a dart.

It wasn't particularly spectacular in whichever way you decided to look at it, except for, perhaps, the glowing purple fluid contained within. Other than that, it was just your regular dart blown from your regular dart gun. It was sent flying through the air and ultimately ended up buried a few centimetres deep into the victim's skin.

The Red Huntress grinned from within her mask, seeing the enemy fall out of the sky and collide painfully with the concrete path in the parklands. It was about time for her immergence as the victor of the constant war between her and the ever-elusive Phantom – for over a year, she'd been hunting, and practicing, and trying, and now... finally, she'd got him. Oh, how he would pay!

Valerie smugly walked up to the ghost, able to look down on him in such a manner for the very first time. He was beaten and battered and part of his face had been smashed inwards from the fall – even she herself had to admit that she felt a _little _sorry for him.

Certainly not sorry enough, on the other hand, to let the kid go. He was paralysed from the dart, looking up to her with a somewhat horrified and boyish expression, and couldn't have been more within her mercy. Valerie was at the point where she could do _anything _she liked with him.

And suddenly it occurred to her that she didn't have a clue what to do. Sure, she wanted revenge, but she didn't want to completely annihilate – or destabilise, or whatever the ghosts called it – him. Perhaps it was something in the way he looked at her...

Valerie shook her head out of the mindset – she'd finally caught him, so what was she doing sympathising? He'd _ruined _her _life!_

"I can't move..." Phantom said weakly, body twitching and shuddering on the ground. The chemicals were already taking effect much more quickly than she had ever expected them too – that Vlad Masters sure knew his stuff when it came to ghost hunting technology.

"Then the dart's doing its job." Valerie sneered. Although keeping a determined and possibly even a kind of cruel look on the outside, she still hadn't a clue what she was going to do with him. Perhaps rough him up a little, or test some weapons on him, or, better yet, take him to the Fentons for dissection...

Somehow, having the Fentons dissect the boy rather than allowing herself to torture the kid felt better on her conscience. Not perfect, but still better.

Phantom began gasping for unneeded air. Valerie raised an eyebrow as she watched him sceptically – his shimmering laser-green eyes began to produce the first signs of glowing tears, sliding down his eyes. She wrote this off as an appeal to her merciful side, although the fact that he could actually take in air to start with was strange – she was under the impression that ghosts didn't actually have lungs and, therefore, had no way of actually breathing.

"Tell me, Phantom. Does it hurt?"

The ghost blinked and looked up in horror, before retching and spitting out a small amount of bright green ectoplasm from his mouth. Ghost blood, Valerie recognised it as. The only way Phantom could speak at the moment was with frequent throaty rasps which sounded far too guttural to be healthy.

"W-what t-the hell's... in it-t...?"

Valerie could only grin. "Oh, well... I suppose I should tell you. It's a concoction of some special ectoplasm with some arsenic mixed in."

"B-but that's-ss leth-thal!"

She shrugged. "Not to ghosts. It just seems to immobilise them for a decent amount of time – other than that, it's just really _painful_. I'm not really sure why..."

"Rev-verse it! Val..."

"Why would I do that?" Valerie faced away from the ghost kid to stop herself from looking at him – the boy looked positively retched, and to be absolutely truthful, she did feel just a little sorry for him...

She received no intelligible reply – instead, the Huntress heard a number of pain-filled hacking coughs, which sounded quite disturbingly like they were tearing at the back of the ghost's throat. But really, he was a ghost... how could he be coughing? In fact...

Valerie realised in horror that there was ectoplasm dribbling out of Phantom's mouth, and that his hacks and coughs had spattered it over the ground a good two feet away from its area of origin. His eyes were closed – he looked as though he'd dropped completely unconscious within the fifteen seconds that she had turned away from the scene.

It wasn't a pretty scene.

She'd used it on other ghosts, she realised in a panic, and it had never had this drastic an effect. It was like Phantom was different, was... there was something he was made up of that had a really, _really _bad reaction to whatever was contained within her darts. Like a kind of ghost allergy, if that was possible.

And the ectoplasm just kept leaking out, now beginning to seep sickeningly through the weaknesses in his skin – mostly scars and scrapes and bruises caused by this battle and any number of previous ones that he'd become entangled in.

But the ectoplasm... there was something very wrong about that, Valerie decided. Perhaps it was the fact that there were flecks of what appeared to be red blood floating in it, repelling each other much like oil immersed in water.

She stammered and mentally tripped over herself, before recomposing and trying to think about the situation logically. But the only logical thing she could come up with was that he was some sort of blood-drinking ghost, and that just didn't seem to match...

The only thing that did match was that he was still human, but that was preposterous! It's impossible to be both – you'd have to be both dead and alive, and nature simply refused to work that way. It simply just didn't _happen_. But then, Valerie thought, what he'd said, his horror at finding out what was in the serum...

As Phantom bled, more and more red droplets became apparent. And finally, the Red Huntress's conscience crushed her – if this... this ghost really was part human, then he'd more than definitely end up dead! She'd have to do something – get some antidote, get _something! _She couldn't let him die, no, he might already be a ghost, but the thought was unconscionable.

But Valerie didn't ever carry antidotes with her. She never thought she'd need them.

Horrified at herself and terrified at what might happen, the Huntress picked up her worst enemy and held him in her arms, looking at his limp and bleeding form momentarily. Ectoplasm and blood dripped down her jumpsuit.

Finally, she picked up her hoverboard and took to the skies, hoping sincerely that the Amity Park hospital would actually know how to treat part-ghosts...

* * *

**Author's Note**

Anyone who can tell me in a review what Vinaceous and Virescent mean get a... well, they get a virtual cookie! And no Googling! If you don't know, just ask in a review and I'll give you the meaning in a reply. :)


	7. Super Special Awkward Plot Twist 1

**Author's Note  
**Welcome to your daily dose of crack – thought of this last night and laughed myself silly when I thought about the topic. Do enjoy! :D It's a threeshot, and I know the title doesn't specify threeshots, but, oh well. Here I go! There may be a temporary break in between the full postage of this piece to fit in other stories/to do the NaNoWriMo, so don't think I've let it go if I don't update it for a little bit. ;)

* * *

**Super Special Awkward Plot Twist  
Part 1/3  
The Malfunction  
-MoonlightUmbreon-**

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The Ghostwriter was in his massive library home, whiling away yet another day by tapping out stories on his keyboard. It wasn't a particularly bad existence, considering what many other ghosts had gotten landed with, but it still got a bit dull every so often, usually when writer's block showed its ugly face and attempted to crash the party.

Today wasn't a particularly strange day, either; everything was going as normal. There were no visitors, no disturbances, no unexpected happenings, no dimensional warps... it was just a regular day in every way that it could be.

Up until now, at least, when the Ghostwriter had decided to update his library and get the new material stocked up on the shelves. He did it once a month, and it usually added an entire new room to the library. It was a bit like a TARDIS, in this respect – from the outside, it looked like it could only hold a couple of large rooms, but once you were in there, one could get lost in the infinite depths. Even the 'Writer himself had lost track some time ago of exactly _how _many rooms there were; he guessed there might have been thousands, at the moment, but could have easily placed it at a higher number.

As for how many books there were... there was no way of telling, and counting was out of the question. It'd have taken you years to do it – the ghost was lucky that his keyboard could tell him exactly the route he'd need to take in order to find any book he wanted and where in the room he could find it.

An hourglass appeared on the screen of the Quantum Keyboard in place of a mouse, which made him wonder briefly why he'd chosen Windows XP as his operating system over a Macintosh, but disregarded the thought immediately when it (finally) told him where the new room had appeared. Apparently, it was in the ninety-seventh hall to the left of the main room, which wasn't too bad. It'd been a lot further away, at times. The Ghostwriter proceeded with interest to the new section, wondering what sorts of new reading material had come to life...

Inside, shelves were stacked to the brims with easily over ten thousand books. There were all sorts of things – bits of stories that were never going to be finished, film scripts, fanfiction, instruction manuals... if something could be written and was more than a few pages long, a copy of it always ended up here, in this very library.

The Ghostwriter picked up a particularly heavy book, seemingly at random, and looked over the cover. It was made of glass and it was somehow embossed with gold lettering, which gleamed when the light of the 'Writer's glowing eyes shone on it.

"'The Many Loves of My Life'." the Ghostwriter read, looking at the book sceptically. It was made to look like some sort of special artefact, and that, if dropped, something similar may never crop up again in the entire history of the Earth.

He was neither impressed nor amused. It was blatantly obvious; this was one of those try-hard books that grab your attention with looks rather than a good plot or blurb. In fact, it wasn't even technically a book, the 'Writer discovered when he flicked through the pages – it was, in fact, a script for a television show.

A decidedly idiotic one, at that.

The Ghostwriter proceeded to spend the rest of his day unloading all of the good-looking books from the shelves and placing them on the table in five stacks that were greater than him in height. This month had brought in some decent, if not impressive material, by the looks of things.

Haphazardly, he brought two stacks of books at a time into the main room, so used to doing so that not a single one ever dropped – although the mountains did occasionally wobble. They were placed in a corner with the other dozen-or-so books that hadn't yet been read from last month, to do anything _but_ gather dust. The 'Writer had already been an insanely fast reader, and over the years he'd been able to skim books at a pace that would make most assume he hadn't actually read anything at all.

Unfortunately, the glass book that he'd been looking at earlier was on the bottom of the final stack, and part of the cover cracked when he put it down with much less of a gentle touch than he was originally intending.

The Ghostwriter couldn't have this, no fear. This was a book we were talking about, and, regardless of the content, it was to be retreated with respect and dignity, in his eyes. Even if they were used poorly, they were, after all, a collection of words. It wasn't the first time he'd come across a damaged book, anyway, and fixing them was only a matter of putting them in a special processor attached to the quantum keyboard.

And so that's exactly what he did. It was just a shame the quantum keyboard malfunctioned while it was attempting to fix the book, and it was even more of a shame that the Ghostwriter was standing right in the middle of the keyboard ring when it happened.

There was a faint popping sound, and then, without a trace, the Ghostwriter was gone.

...

The keyboard began to type...


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